The Show Must Go On

[edashtav]

Hang it, Hang him, This Show Must Go On

The Grantham Journal Saturday 19th September 1874

A SANGUINARY AUDIENCE

At the Theatre Royal Cambridge, on Saturday night, the performance wound up with the tragedy of “Maria Martin, or the Murder in the Red Barn.” The curtain fell after Wm. Corder, the murderer, had been brought to the scaffold, and with rope dangling above his head “improved the occasion”.

The audience refused to leave, and when the orchestra played the National anthem, it was received with hisses and clamour, and the crowded audience remained in their places. :(:(:(:(:(:(

At length Mr. Frederick Hughes, the manager, presented himself, and apologised for being unable to gratify his patrons by actually hanging the actor – Mr Concannon, who represented the murderer, Wm. Corder, unless with his own consent, which he was hardly likely to give.

The “gods” shouted furiously, “Bring him out with the rope round his neck.”

Of course, the demand was not complied with, and after more demonstrations of the desire to see the representative of the Suffolk murderer actually hung, the crowded audience slowly and with manifest reluctance, left for home.

[kernelbogey]

Perhaps other older boarders will remember this incident. It was circa 1959-60 and was reported on the front page of The Times. I'm fairly confident that memory has not embroidered the story, despite the interval of years.

Leonara 3 was being performed at the Royal Albert Hall. I don't remember whether this was the Proms, nor which orchestra or conductor was involved.

The first trumpet had been positioned in the gallery. As he raised his instrument to his lips to give the signal for the governor's arrival, an RAH* functionary stepped forward to restrain him with words to the effect of ''Ere, you can't play that 'ere mate'.

The second trumpet, below in the orchestra, picked up straight away. The principal was reported to have been very upset.
*Edit: not RFH

Does anyone here remember this report or even the actual concert? Was anyone in that orchestra?

I'm guessing it happened between 1959 and 1962.

[ferneyhoughgeliebte]

Does anyone here remember this report or even the actual concert? Was anyone in that orchestra?

I'm guessing it happened between 1959 and 1962.

Didn't something similar happen much earlier? I think it's in one of Bernard Shore's books - Henry Wood/Beecham performing and, furious at the non-appearance of the off-stage trumpet went backstage to give the player a piece of his mind, only to find him grappling with said functionary telling him "No, we'll have none of yer Suffragette nonsense here!"

[mercia]

googling the 'Leonora story' has only told me that the conductor might have been Stokowski (but according to the Proms Archive he never conducted it at the proms). Its the sort of anecdote where the details can easily change over time.

[kernelbogey]

[...]Its the sort of anecdote where the details can easily change over time.

...and possible that I've changed some in 50 years ... But I have a strong memory of the Times, which I used to read in those years, thanks to a subsidy to encourage schoolboys and schoolgirls to read it. (Didn't work for me in the long term, tho'.)

[ferneyhoughgeliebte]

If anything's changed in the last fifty years, kb, it's The Times itself. It used to be a newspaper - tell that to schoolboys and schoolgirls today and they don't believe you

[kernelbogey]

If anything's changed in the last fifty years, kb, it's The Times itself. It used to be a newspaper - tell that to schoolboys and schoolgirls today and they don't believe you

[<Sound of dropping pennies icon>]
Of course, at that time, The Times still ran only classified advertsing on the front page, so at least that part of my memory is wrong.

On 3 May 1966 it resumed printing news on the front page - previously the front page featured small advertisements, usually of interest to the moneyed classes in British society. - Wikipedia

[edashtav]

Trumpets have been Arrested Since Leonora was 2 or 3

You're probably right, kernelbogey, since such reports, whether apocryphal or not, appear every few years in newspapers, worldwide. I'm printing one inspired by Janet Craxton going off-stage in 1950. It mentions a failed Leonora from many years before. [ Incidentally, I had forgotten that Janet Craxton was principal oboe in the Hallé before she reigned supreme in the BBC SO.]

Nottingham Evening Post Wednesday May 10th 1950

Trumpets off

[ Doesn't that title need an apostrophe?]

Sir John Barbirolli’s orchestral effect in a movement of the Symphonie Fantastique by Berlioz in the Albert Hall, Nottingham, reminded me of an amusing incident in the old Queen’s Hall London, some years ago.

On Friday night, Janet Craxton, principal oboist of the Hallé Orchestra retired off-stage to play her part, with the result that we heard a most effective distant sound from her sweet instrument.

However, in the Queen’s Hall, a trumpeter was sent out to create a similar effect in Beethoven’s third “Leonora” Overture but, alas, no sound was heard.

The famous Nikisch had gone to great pains rehearsing his trumpeter, who, in the evening’s performance was told to stand behind swing doors in a passage in the hall. Came the concert and the overture began. All went well until the strings had announced the trumpet’s distant but prominent call. Nothing happened, and the overture was completely spoilt.

Of course Nikisch was in a raging temper until he heard the embarrassed musician’s explanation.

“I was about to put the trumpet to my lips,” he was told, “when up rushed the new fireman who cried, ‘You can’t blow that thing in ‘ere, there’s a concert going on.’”



[ That fireman's officious reason tends to be an idée fixe across such reports which suggests some embroidery by reporters. But... those at the Times wouldn't have, would they?]

[edashtav]

It's Beethoven's Centenary Wot Dunnit!

[ That fireman's officious reason tends to be an idée fixe across such reports which suggests some embroidery by reporters. But... those at the Times wouldn't have, would they?]

Nottingham Evening Post Saturday 26th March 1927

Why the Trumpet Was Silent

The inevitable Beethoven centenary story has arrived from across the Atlantic. The “Leonora” overture, in which two trumpet passages “off stage” are played, but on neither occasion did the trumpeter come in.

After the overture the furious conductor rushed to the wings and found the fireman apostrophising the trumpeter, “I tell you, you can’t play that ‘ere. There’s a concert on.”

[edashtav]

Note to Composers: How to get your Symphony Performed

Dr. Hans Richter can appear as severe. His impact on music in the Manchester was profound and his caustic wit appealed to Lancastrians. The following tales are taken from a short column written to celebrate the 30th anniversary of his first appearance in London.

Burnley Express Wednesday 29th May 1907

Recently, when rehearsing a Mozart symphony it is related, he stopped the band and exclaimed,"Please gentlemen, more pianissimo, I want you to play like Queen Mab, not like suffragettes."

When going through Tschaikovsky's "Romeo and Juliet" overture he pulled up the orchestra and said,"You all play live married men not like lovers."

On one occasion a composer offered him a cigar; the doctor was suspicious, but after he lighted it and found it was a good one he asked: "Have you written a symphony?"

[edashtav]

This War Requiem Will Go On When You CAll a Truce

I attended a performance of Britten's War Requiem at the Lighthouse, Poole last November. It was a good evening with soloists, Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra and Chorus and local youth choirs ably marshalled by the chorus master: Gavin Carr. Now, Gavin has a certain stature and presence, let's say that he's the opposite of debonair Sir Malcolm Sargent. Sadly, the hall was not much more than half full. Rather isolated in the front stalls was a school party. They had come armed to the teeth for trench warfare: bottles of fizzy, sweet stuff for hydration, and crinkly bags full of iron rations. It wasn't long before the forces on-stage hushed but the battery from below never stilled: bags burst, bottles gushed, crisps crackled like distant rifles and schoolbags dropped on the resonant floor making noises like mortar shells. Gavin finished one number and downing his baton, he turned his appalled face, black as thunder, to the consuming company below. He made it crystal clear that the performance would not, could not, proceed until the youngsters had declared a unilateral truce, put their weapons for mastication back into bags, and had sworn to null by mouth until the Requiem had ended. With the children cowering in their seats, their staff speechless but seething with embarrassment, Gavin turned back to his musicians with renewed and peerless authority.

[edashtav]

Flash Harry Forced to Halt by Flashman

The Hull Daily Mail 18th September 1948

Conductor Stopped Symphony

SIR MALCOLM SARGENT, the conductor, who stopped a performance of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony at last night’s promenade concert in the Albert Hall, London, when a photographer moved about and took flashlight pictures on the stage, commented today on the incident.

“I am the last person to impede the press, particularly as they do so much for music. I am most ready to assist them, but it was impossible the,” he told a reporter.

“The photographer distracted the audience’s attention by moving about, using flashlights, and clicking the shutter of his camera.”

“I WAS HORRIFIED”
“I was horrified at having to make any form of protest but I just could not help myself.”

The interruption took place during the slow movement of the symphony. Sir Malcolm stopped the orchestra playing and asked the photographer to go. He then took the orchestra back a few bars to resume playing.

Many heard the interruption over the portable radios as they sat on the pavement outside.


No doubt, this was at the penultimate night of the Promenade season – by tradition set aside for the annual performance of the Choral Symphony. Perhaps, the Press were taking some stock pictures ready for the Last Night and Sargent’s speech. To choose the symphony’s hushed, tense slow movement was the height of folly, stemming, possibly, from ignorance.

I wonder how Boarders would have reacted? I hope that many of us would have intervened in Sir Malcolm’s manner. I don’t know about you, but I believe in the importance of structural integrity, and would have chosen to start the movement afresh whatever was the message coming from the producer in his box.

I love the romantic vision of those outside camped on the pavement listening via their portable radios. Such machines were as rare as hens’ teeth in 1948. Yes, you would have sat down to listen, for their hefty batteries – almost as big as bricks- made them so heavy to carry.

A final thought. We know that Sir Malcolm Sargent gained his nickname “Flash Harry” through his suave looks and debonair behaviour but this incident offers an alternative etymology.

[edashtav]

It Happened When the Show Didn't Go On

1934 was an "annus horribilis et mirabilis" for British music for it lost three great composers: Elgar Holst & Delius in the space of 4 months but Harrison Birtwistle and Peter Maxwell Davies were born: equal to the task of replacing them. It may have been the year when manners and deference were lost by concertgoers. Here are two tales from the summer of 1934.

The first is set at the BBC Proms in the Albert Hall. Sir Henry Wood was conducting "his" orchestra and Frank Titterton (tenor) sang one of the highlights of Handel's oratorio "Judas Maccabeus":Sound the Alarm :

Western Gazette 31st August 1934
"... the applause had scarcely died away when a loud voice from the back of the promenade was heard calling out: "Aren't you going to give us the whole of it?" and "You have cut out the crescendo."

The interrupter was a hatless young and, cries of "Chuck him out!" came from all parts of the hall.

Sir Henry Wood made no reply, and, shaking a fist at Sir Henry's back, the man shouted, "You yourself protested against the cutting of Wagner."

By this time attendants and officials from the nearby BBC building had arrived, and the man and his woman companion went with them to the manager's office. Sir Henry Wood then took the orchestra through the next item on the programme.

Every word of the interrupter must have been clearly heard through many thousands of loud-speakers throughout the country, for the concert was being broadcast.

Later that autumn Albert Coates (a name as English as a Lancastrian lion's but Coates had been born in St Petersburg) conducted the LSO. This report followed in the Yorkshire Post (19th December)

... a young man shouted to Mr. Albert Coates, who had conducted a performance of Tchaikovsky's Fifth Symphony,"What about those 12 bars."

Mr Coates explained that the bars occurred just before the coda and the composer never had them played. The conductor was at liberty to play them or cut them out.:rolleyes:

Factually true, Tchaikovsky imposed those cuts when performing his symphony in Hamburg. Poor young man - born too early to vent his anger via the For3 forum.

[edashtav]

The Dead March Goes On Until the Police are Granted a Request

Manchester Courier 14th February 1913

Musicians’ Wages

BAND PLAYS A JOKE ON THE POLICE

Some developments took place on Saturday in the new campaign of the Amalgamated Musicians’ Union […]that has as its object the attainment of a minimum rate of 30s a week for all members […]

In the early afternoon, a large crowd gathered in the vicinity of the King’s Theatre, Hammersmith, headed by the band of the union, with men bearing boards that intimated that trade union rates were not being paid at that house. These were joined soon afterwards by a number of taxi-cab strikers, who had been holding a meeting nearby, and the band broke into the strains of the “Dead March”, the doleful music of which was continued till, at the special request of the police, it was changed to something of a more cheerful character, one of the airs selected being “We don’t like the Boys in Blue.”

[edashtav]

Tonight's Concert Cannot Go On - the Soloist is in Clink

Ole Bull was a fine, Norwegian violinist (some said second only to Paganini). He loved to tour, particularly in the States where he founded an Ole Bull Colony. He pronounced his forename as if he were a Spaniard pleased with a Bull-fight.

The following story may have been “spun” by the young Bull – it may have been his agent, improbably named Schubert, that had him arrested for “unfinished” business!

Leeds Mercury 17th January 1846
ARREST OF OLE BULL

This eminent violinist was recently arrested in Baltimore, Ohio under the following circumstances:- a contract was made by Ole Bull’s agent with Mr. Barton of Philadelphia, for Ole Bull to play four nights at the Arch-street Theatre. Mr Barton agreed on his part to furnish a full and complete orchestra to accompany Ole Bull, who went to Philadelphia from Boston to fulfil the engagement, taking with him Signor La Mauna to conduct the orchestra. Upon his arrival Ole Bull found that Mr. Barton could not procure the orchestra, and wished him to play with a piano accompaniment, which he refused to do. He thereby was at considerable expense in going to that city to fulfil the contract. Thus the matter stood for more than a year until, not long ago, in Baltimore, Mr. Barton had Ole Bull arrested, just as the violinist was leaving his hotel, for the purpose of performing at his concert.